


Kink Five: Video Recording

by ChasingRabbits, thepinupchemist



Series: Cas and Dean’s Excellent Kink-venture [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Consensual Kink, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, Frottage, Gentle Dom Castiel, Kink, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn Video, Self-Worth, Self-Worth Issues, Sex Tapes, Sub Dean, Voyeurism, video taping, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingRabbits/pseuds/ChasingRabbits, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinupchemist/pseuds/thepinupchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's irritable. Cas wants to help. Dean feels like a dick. Cas wants to help.</p>
<p>Whatever the preceding events, they somehow end up naked with a phone camera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kink Five: Video Recording

“Chuck, man,” Dean hangs his head. “I told you, you’re supposed to come to me when the check engine light comes on, not when the goddamn thing won’t start.”

“I don’t know,” Chuck folds his arms across his chest. “Don’t check engine lights just… come on sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “When you need to have a mechanic check under your goddamned hood. Your spark plugs are shot, man, when the fuck did you have ‘em changed last?”

Chuck gives him this blank stare, “Changed?”

“Oh, man,” Dean rubs his temples. This is not how he wanted to spend his morning. On Sundays, he gets to sleep in with Cas, they get to be lazy all morning and watch TV in their pajamas. Sometimes Cas makes these really good belgian waffles in that fancy waffle maker he splurged on last Christmas.

He just wanted to take out the trash before settling into a nice morning, but instead he got to take out the trash while Chuck kicked and swore at his car and come on, Dean couldn’t just leave the guy.

“Man,” Dean rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to tell you. I can have a truck come pick it up tomorrow, but you’re stuck here for today.”

“Shit,” Chuck smacks the roof of the car.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Dean lifts his hands. “She’s no looker, but that doesn’t mean you lay hands on her man, that’s not cool.”

“I gotta be across town in,” he looks at his watch, “Five minutes ago.”

Dean keeps his groan in his chest and instead stares up at the roof of the garage.

“Hang tight, lemme grab my keys.”

Fuck his moral compass. Fuck his genuine concern for the wellbeing and needs of their weird-ass neighbor who catches them making out in the hallway way too often to be coincidental.

Cas is up when Dean returns to their apartment, just barely by the looks of it. He clutches a mug of coffee close to his chest and cocks his head as Dean blows right by him and into their bedroom.

“Um,” Cas appears in the doorway. “Good morning?”

“Chuck’s having car trouble, I’m gonna run him across town real quick,” Dean snips, punctuating each word with a different step in the shoe tying process.

“Do you want some company?” asks Cas.

“I’m just gonna go,” Dean grumbles. He grabs his wallet off of the dresser, pockets his keys, and gives Cas a quick kiss before he trots back downstairs.

“Thanks for doing this, man,” Chuck breathes a sigh of relief. Dean doesn’t listen to the excuse that Chuck rattles off, because frankly he doesn’t really care. Just because he’s lending the guy a hand doesn’t mean he has to give two shits about his cousin’s… birthday party or bat mitzvah or whatever the fuck.

Chuck won’t stop thanking him either, which for whatever reason only annoys Dean further. Maybe because if Chuck just brought the car to him two weeks ago when the goddamned light came on, he wouldn’t be having this problem. He could be curled up on the couch right now, catching up on Bates Motel or some shit.

It doesn’t matter that that’s exactly where he’ll be again in twenty minutes, he wants to be there now. He’s so irritated that by the time he finally is home, he snaps at Cas when he asks how it went.

“I just dropped him off at his cousin’s house, Jesus Christ!”

Cas just frowns at him from his spot on the couch, and then mutes the TV before turning and saying, “That was hardly necessary.”

“I don’t care,” Dean kicks off his shoes and finally, finally pours himself a cup of coffee. Though, the coffee maker has turned off by now, and the stuff in the pot is lukewarm at best. “That weasely little shit,” he mutters and pops the coffee in the microwave.

God fucking damn it, this is not how he wanted today to go.

He can hear Cas shifting over on the couch, and then a couple of socked feet padding over toward him. Dean almost tells Cas not to touch him, to just let him be, but he doesn’t have to. Cas leans on the counter at a reasonable distance from Dean and just looks at him.

“Man, take a fuckin’ picture. It’ll last longer.”

He sees Cas raise an eyebrow out of the corner of his eye, but decides not to say anything. Instead, he grabs the mug out of the microwave and takes a gulp. It burns his mouth and all the way down his throat and into his stomach, but that’s good. He needs something to ground him, to bring him back out of whatever the hell funk this is.

A few more minutes pass in total silence before Dean sets his mug back down on the counter and mutters a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Cas nods and comes over to rub a hand over Dean’s back. “You’re very tense. Why is that?”

Dean shrugs.

“You don’t want to talk, do you?”

Dean shakes his head, which is apparently grounds for Cas to pull him into a hug.

“Man, come on,” Dean sighs. “I’ve been a fucking dick all morning, what’s with this?”

“You need it,” Cas hums and pecks him on the lips. “Would you like to me take care of you?”

Part of Dean wants to lean into Cas’ arms, but the other part, the sticky black part of his insides tells him that after the way he’s treated Cas, he doesn’t deserve a goddamn thing. Dean catches his lower lip between his teeth and shrugs out of Cas’ embrace. He says, “Nah, Cas. I just - yeah, I don’t deserve that.”

“I beg your pardon?” Cas frowns, and reaches out to rest his hands on Dean’s shoulder, “You know I don’t like it when you talk that way. Please let me take care of you.”

Again, the offer is tempting. Throughout this whole kink thing, Dean is really starting to realize that he likes letting go of his control. He likes giving the decision-making process to Cas, so Dean can be blissfully blank and treated like a friggin’ king. But that’s the catch, ain’t it? He’s been a dick, not a king. Dean swallows the lump in his throat and says, “I’m...yeah. I’m good. You don’t need to do that.”

“I know that I don’t need to,” says Cas, “I want to. Let me.”

“Fuck, dude, why aren’t you pissed at me? I’ve done nothing but snap at you all morning and now you just wanna kiss and make up? If anybody should be taking care of anybody, I should be taking care of you.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

Huh. Dean was expecting an argument. Cas always does that to him - surprises him. Cas’ fingers thread into Dean’s hair and Dean leans into it. He licks his lips and murmurs, “What do you want me to do, baby? Anything you’d like.”

A wicked grin spreads over Castiel’s face, and the grin goes right from Dean’s brain all the way to his dick. Cas leans in further, brushes his lips over Dean’s stubbled jaw, and says, “I think that I’d like for you to blow me.”

Dean’s face heats but his body shivers and he says, “Of course, yeah, anything.”

“And I want to record you.”

“Huh?”

“I want to record you on my phone. I want to show you just how wonderful you are. Would that be okay with you?”

Dean thinks of seeing himself doing all the dirty shit that he loves, and starts to harden inside his jeans. He nods wordlessly. However, Cas prompts, “Words, Dean.”

“Yeah. Yes. Let’s do that.”

Castiel’s smile doesn’t budge as he reaches into his pocket to draw out his phone. Then the smile is a smirk, and Cas says, “Well - go on. Blow me away.”

Dean shakes his head, “You’re not funny.”

“I don’t recall asking you if I was,” Cas glances up from the screen.

Dean swallows hard and runs his tongue over his lips. Like a man possessed, he sinks to his knees and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Cas’ jeans. When he looks back up, he sees the little black lense pointed right at him and Cas watching him on the screen.

Now that he’s here, there’s a small part of him that reminds him that this is a little strange, which Cas must see on his face. He reaches down and runs his free hand through Dean’s hair.

“Just pretend it’s not here,” he says.

Right.

He works Cas’ pants open and pulls his cock out. Cas is already starting to get hard and it makes Dean’s insides turn to jelly. Without missing a beat, Dean leans in and takes him into his mouth, letting out a soft sigh at the familiar taste and weight on his tongue.

As soon as he shuts his eyes and gets a rhythm going, he finds it easier to ignore the fact that he’s being recorded. He works his way through Cas’ favorites, hands and tongue and lips all in the exact places Cas likes. Dean is good enough at this that, even if it doesn’t make up for him being a total shit this morning, it will at least make it better.

For good measure, he swallows down and down until he’s got his nose pressed against the soft skin of Cas’ stomach. He’s a lot better at this than he used to be, but he can still only hold it for so long before he has to pull back and breathe.

With a hand still working over Cas’ cock, Dean looks up at him and gives him a smile. Cas’ cheeks are bright red, his lips parted, and Dean somehow gets harder in his pants. He reaches down and gives himself a quick squeeze, just to relieve the pressure… and maybe another, just because it feels that good.

Dean hums happily at the pleasant shock that runs through him and bobs his head back to take Cas in all the way to his throat. Cas’ scent surrounds him, musky and sweaty. It makes him feel lightheaded, the good kind, and all at once it’s like he’s floating out of his body and watching himself lick and suck and play.

The fingers on Cas’ free hand scratch over Dean’s scalp and a low groan rumbles in his chest. Cas says, “You love this, don’t you? You love having a cock in your mouth, in your throat.”

Dean pulls back just enough to whisper out a hoarse, soft, “Yes,” before dipping back into his work.

“You love the taste.”

Dean whines around Cas’ girth. He’s harder than hell now, and the pressure of his palm through the thick denim of his jeans isn’t enough anymore. With one, clumsy hand, Dean fumbles with his fly. The maneuver is difficult but the need weighs out the challenge. Dean reaches into his underwear and pulls his cock out, closing his fingers around his own erection.

Fuck, finally.

“I can’t wait for you to see what I’m seeing. You are so damn beautiful, Dean.”

Castiel’s hips stutter. He’s close. Dean redoubles his efforts, putting more energy into the suction of his mouth, the flicks of his tongue. But, instead of slamming in close to come like he usually does, Cas withdraws. Dean makes a noise of complaint, but he’s cut off by the first hot ropes of Cas’ come hitting his cheek. Holy shit.

“Now let’s watch you get yourself off,” Cas says. Someplace in the back of Dean’s fuzzy mind, he knows that there’s still a camera being pointed at him. He doesn’t care. He tightens his grip around himself and hastens the flicks of his wrist. He can feel an orgasm building deep in his belly and without thought he starts to thrust into the grip of his own hand.

“That’s it,” Cas’ deep voice encourages, “Slow down. Pay special attention to the head.”

Dean hangs his head, in agony over the command, but he listens anyway. The oncoming orgasm recedes a little, but as soon as he rubs his thumb over the bead of precome at the crown of his cock it’s back at full force.

“Good,” murmurs Cas, “So good for me. Now I want you to use both hands, Dean. I want you all the way up on your knees. Use your other hand to fondle your sac. I want to watch you savor it.”

Dean lets out a noise, something animal, as he shifts to plunge his other hand inside his underwear. Sweat rolls from his forehead down the sides of his face, and he has to come, but Christ, he thinks he needs to wait for Cas to tell him it’s okay or something. This is equal parts heaven and hell, bucking and writhing into his own touch like he’s never pulled one off before in his life.

There’s something about that camera that makes this better.

Cas reaches down with his free hand and tips Dean’s chin up. Their eyes connect, and Cas says, “You can come whenever you want to.”

“Ha-aaa--ah,” is the noise that pulls from Dean’s throat when his orgasm swallows him whole. The impact is so intense that he topples over onto his side. It takes all his remaining energy just to roll onto his back and stare up at Cas, who’s still wearing a smirk.

“Fuck. Wow. Love you,” he mumbles, the words a mess as they slur.

Cas smiles back, “I love you too,” and stops the recording. He kneels beside Dean and rests a comforting hand on his chest, right over his heart. “My happy boy,” he hums, the words radiating warmth right into Dean’s core. “Let’s get you washed up and in bed.”

It takes Dean until then to realize that he has Cas’ come drying on his face still, and with that comes the other realization that the rest of him is hot and sweaty and sticky and that he would like very much to be not that anymore.

Cas helps him stand, and catches Dean when his jelly legs give out.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Dean lets out a dazed laugh. “Even better once the Wizard gives me a brain, though.”

A moment, and then, “Don’t tell Sam I made that reference.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cas kisses his sweaty temple and helps him into their bathroom. He undresses Dean, then turns on the water before doing the same for himself.

Once under the hot spray of water, Dean lets out a satisfied groan. Heat soaks into his muscles, steam curls in his lungs, and Cas slides in behind him to hold him steady. He hears the click of a plastic cap, followed immediately by the smell of their shampoo and the feeling of Cas’ hands in his hair. Another noise of satisfaction as Cas turns him around and brings their lips together in a kiss.

He hides his face in Cas’ neck as his hands continue to soap up the rest of his body, revelling in the sheer bliss of this man’s touch. It’s one of the best highs Dean can ever recall having.

“Hey,” Cas chuckles. “No dozing off in the shower.”

Dean grunts and wraps his arms around Cas’ shoulders, just to be a pain. And also because Cas is nice and solid and so, so good.

When they finish and have towelled off in the hot, thick bathroom air, Cas guides Dean to the dresser and asks, “Do you need help?”

“No,” Dean feels his eyebrows pinch together and his lips jut into a pout. They toss on clean shirts and last night’s sweats and then huddle together on the bed.

At least, Dean does. Cas leans over and kisses him on the forehead, “I’m going to get some water, all right? Don’t fall asleep.”

“Can’t make that promise, baby,” Dean rolls onto his stomach and hugs Cas’ pillow to his chest.

But Cas just kisses him again and reassures, “Yes, you can.”

And if Cas says so, then it must be true.

In what seems to Dean like the blink of an eye, Cas is back, perched on the edge of their mattress with a glass of water. He rubs his free hand between Dean’s shoulder blades and says, “Sit up.”

Dean groans, but shifts up. He doesn’t know why he’s so goddamn achey. All he did was give a particularly energetic blow job. It’s not like he and Cas were testing out the kama sutra...and come to think of it, Dean’s pretty sure that Cas wouldn’t be opposed to weird, yoga-esque, body-pretzel sex. He’d better not mention it.

When Cas presses the cool rim of the glass to Dean’s lips, he drinks. Instant relief washes over him, soothing his throat and softening the pounding of his head. Cas pulls the glass from his lips and sets it aside, and Dean’s eyelids feel heavy. He drifts in and out while Cas shuffles around. He doesn’t know how much longer it is, but eventually, Dean feels the body heat of his boyfriend close in, and strong arms wrap around him.

Dean moans when he wakes up, stretching his limbs as far as he can. He sits up, and glances over at the clock. It’s not even five yet. Beside him, Cas is out like a light with his hair stuck up in different directions and his lips parted. Dean leans over to kiss him right on those lips.

Cas stirs, his eyebrows pinching and nose wrinkling as Dean kisses him awake.

“S’not Monday morning is it,” Cas grumbles, eyes still closed.  

“Nah, still Sunday,” Dean murmurs back and runs his fingers through Cas’ bedhead.

“Good,” Cas yawns and tugs Dean in closer for another kiss. When he pulls back, he asks, “How do you feel?”

This afternoon’s events come trickling back into Dean’s mind and he smiles, a little flustered but nonetheless good. He combs his fingers through and through Cas’ hair, and gives him another kiss before replying, “I’m fuckin’ great. You?”

Cas hums and stretches the sleep out of his muscles, arching up into Dean.

“I’m wonderful,” he says. “Very happy I have that performance preserved for posterity.”

“Jesus,” Dean chuckles and rests his forehead in the crook of Cas’ neck. “One afternoon and one afternoon only.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be saying that if you were in my position,” Cas rests a hand on the back of his head, kisses the side of Dean’s head.

“Okay,” Dean lets out a laugh and pulls back. “Whatever you say, boss-man.”

Dean attempts to get up, but Cas holds him still. There’s a look on his face that makes Dean’s insides stir, and with good reason.

“Luckily for you, I happen to have very compelling evidence that would prove it,” he says, and reaches for his phone on their nightstand. Anxiety spikes in Dean’s stomach, but Cas… He looks up at him and says, “Let’s examine exhibit A, shall we?”

Dean swallows hard and slides off of Cas, settling under his arm, where he can look away if he needs to. He feels Cas’ fingers come up over the back of his neck to run gently through his hair and relaxes by a smidge -- but God, this is fucking embarrassing. He didn’t think he’d be looking at the video, really. He’d thought more along the lines of the thing being something to fuel Cas’ spank bank should Dean be absent.

_“Well, go on-- blow me away.”_

_“You’re not funny.”_

“Oh, Christ,” Dean mutters.

“Hush,” Cas pecks a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “Just watch.”

Dean is watching. He’s watching himself in an angle he’s seen numerous times before, only instead of a stranger, it’s him. It’s him. It’s a hurdle his brain can’t quite clear until he hears Cas’ next instruction,

_“Just pretend it’s not here.”_

Dean didn’t realize he took that as seriously as he so obviously did.

The second he watches himself swallow up Cas’ cock, he shifts. He should not be getting turned on by this. What kind of perv gets turned on watching their own sex video?

“See?” Cas shifts back deliberately against him. “Look at how much you love having my dick in your mouth. So damn hot, Dean.”

Video Dean is pretty intensely focused, hand working and--Christ.

Is that him making those noises? It’s not Cas. Dean would know Cas’ sounds anywhere, and those are not Cas.

“Fuck, do I always make that much noise?” he asks, mind starting to go a little blank.

“Mm, yes, you do,” Cas tangles the fingers of his free hand in Dean’s hair. “Some of my favorite sounds in the world are the sounds you make when you’re sucking cock.”

A shudder runs through Dean’s body. Those words are all he needs to become hard underneath his sweats. He tries not to think too hard on his erection, but damn it, it’s kind of hard not to notice how horny you are when you’re watching a video of yourself giving head. He squirms a little, and Castiel tightens his grip around Dean’s shoulders.

_“You love this, don’t you? You love having a cock in your mouth, in your throat.”_

“Holy shit,” Dean says, and Dean on screen makes some unholy sound at the same time. He’s like a goddamn man possessed. This is more intense than any porn he’s watched in his whole life. Watching himself get all worked up and lust drunk is on some whole new level.

Dean casts a discrete glance at Cas’ sweats and is pleased to see that he’s not the only one with a stiffy as tall as the Empire State. He makes a grab for Cas’ cock, but Cas catches his wrist and pushes him back with a, “Shh, not yet. We’re not done watching.”

_“You love the taste.”_

Dean can’t remember Cas saying that. He doesn’t know if he remembers any of this part, his equal parts desperation and eagerness over getting Cas off, swallowing him down and giving him something to remember -- video or not. On-screen Dean reaches into his pants with surprising dexterity, and yup, there he is with his dick in his hand, fucking frantic.

_“I can’t wait for you to see what I’m seeing. You are so damn beautiful, Dean.”_

Dean doesn’t remember Cas saying that, either. Maybe he was just in zone. He likes that zone, the place where he doesn’t have to think and all he needs to listen to are Cas’ instructions on what he should do and when he should come or if he should talk.

All at once, video-Cas starts to shake, the camera going with him, and Dean leaps in to work even harder. Dean knows it’s gonna happen, ‘cause it happened to him, but it’s still a surprise to watch Cas pull back and come across his cheek. The digital version of himself looks dazed, but happy. Dean bites down on his lip and silently wills his erection to calm down until the end of the video.

_“Now let’s watch you get yourself off,”_ On-screen Cas says.

Christ. Dean just does it, just fucks his hand like it’s the best thing he could hope for. And, he has to admit - it’s kinda sexy, isn’t it? Is it weird that he thinks that? Should he think that about himself?

“You’re thinking too much,” Cas murmurs, and brushes his lips across Dean’s forehead, “I told you that you’re wonderful. Look at how good you’re being for me, listening to every command without a word.”

_"That’s it. Slow down. Pay special attention to the head.”_

_“Good. So good for me. Now I want you to use both hands, Dean. I want you all the way up on your knees. Use your other hand to fondle your sac. I want to watch you savor it.”_

Holy fuck. He’s like -- writhing, both hands working himself over and man, Dean didn’t even know he had it in him to a. manage that position, and b. manage that energy. This is the kind of shit you can get away with at nineteen, not at twenty eight. He’s closer to his thirties than he is to his days as a teenager. How the hell is he doing that?

And wow, he didn’t know he made any of those noises. He’s moaning like a whore and instead of embarrassing him like it should be doing, the sounds just send a drip of precome into the fabric of his boxers. He’s going to die here, in this bed, watching this video. He can see the epitaph now: “Here lies Dean, lived a slut and died a slut.”

Then he comes and it’s like somebody punched his video version in the gut. He falls over. Dean actually falls over and pants and then he’s slurring to Cas that he loves him.

The last thing that Dean hears before the video stops is Cas replying that he loves Dean, too. Are they always such sappy assholes?

“I rest my case,” says Cas, tossing his phone off somewhere on the bed. “I have to say, I knew you would enjoy watching yourself, I just didn’t realize you would enjoy it so much.”

Cas presses him into the bed and climbs over him, dips down to catch him in a heated kiss. Dean suddenly finds himself wondering if he’s making the same kinds of noises he was in the video, but Cas nips those thoughts pretty quickly.

“What did I say about thinking too much?” Cas huffs against his cheek, leaving kisses in his wake. Dean hears himself moan at that, feels his cock throb between his legs. Desperate for friction, he rolls his hips up. He’s still a little dazed from earlier, still has the heaviness of a good orgasm in his bones, and now with this, the relief is incredible.

“Slow down,” Cas commands softly, pressing his lips under either eye. “Is that how you want to come? You can answer.”

“I need somethin’, Cas,” Dean’s lungs barely even hold enough air for such a simple statement.

“I think I may have something in my ear, because I swear I asked you a yes or no question,” Cas observes. “What did you say?”

“Yes,” Dean breathes. “Yes, please.”

He doesn’t even mean to add that last word, but it seems to tip the scale in his favor. Cas leans in and gives him a soft, lingering kiss.

“So polite,” he says. “Without me even asking, either. What a good boy.”

Dean cranes his head back as far as it will go, but keeps his hips still. He can do this. He can keep himself in check, because he is good.

Cas loves it when he’s good for him.

He’s vaguely aware that Cas has pulled down his sweats and his boxers, and that Cas does the same for himself. When he settles back, when Cas’ cock and Dean’s sandwich between their bellies, Dean reaches up and wraps his arms around those broad, tanned, fucking gorgeous shoulders.

Cas manhandles his legs until they’re up around his waist, so that he and Dean pressed so close that they’re practically fused. Without another instruction, another word of praise, Cas starts to roll against him. It doesn’t take much for Dean’s mind to white out after that, to just let Cas do all the work and take care of him.

They come within moments of each other, though who does so first Dean can’t tell. All he knows is there’s a spurt and another splashing between them, and then another and another right after that. He holds onto Cas so tightly, has to keep himself anchored to them, to this.

As he returns back to himself, he feels the impending headache of dehydration lurking deep in his brain, a dull phantom ache compared to the euphoria shooting through the rest of him. His freshly showered skin is all hot and sticky with sweat and come, but there’s Cas nuzzling his jaw, kissing his neck and his chin.

“Beautiful, as always,” he declares.

Dean’s initial instinct is to argue, but instead he huddles in closer to Cas and clings, koala-like, until his stomach lets out a yowl of hunger. Dean can feel Cas’ smile against the skin of his forehead, and he smiles back when Cas asks, “Do you want me to make you something?”

“Mm,” Dean considers, “It’s still the weekend. We should get some burgers or something. Pizza? I wanna see Guardians of the Galaxy. Everyone’s seen it but us, dude.”

Castiel chuckles, but doesn’t move. He seems to always sense when Dean wants touch more than anything else. Dean didn’t ever used to let anyone in on when he wanted to be held or cuddled or massaged or all those things that Castiel just...does. He kind of lucked out in the dude department.

“We had burgers two nights ago,” Cas mumbles, “Let’s do pizza. And we’ll go to that nice theater.”

“The one where they serve beer?” Dean asks hopefully.

“Mhmm,” Cas confirms, and smacks a loud kiss to Dean’s head, “All right, Winchester, it’s time to get up and at ‘em.”

“S’not.”

“If you want pizza it is,” Cas replies.

After a long, dramatic groan of complaint, Dean peels his body off of the bedsheets and stands up. As he walks toward the bathroom to clean himself up for the second time in only a matter of hours, Cas reaches over and gives a smack to his bare ass.

Dean turns around to glare, but Cas is already pulling fresh clothes out of the closet, the sneak.

By the time that they make it out of the apartment, Dean is sore, but a good kind of sore. Cas made him drink water before they left, and when they finish their pizza and settle down in movie theater seats, he rubs Dean’s shoulders.

Years ago, Dean didn’t think of himself as the settling down type. He’d always bounce from person to person. But now he’s here, on a date night, his belly full of pizza and a beer bottle in his cup holder, and two long-fingered hands pressing into the tight parts of his muscles. If this is settling down, then hell, he doesn’t know why he didn’t always like the idea.

 


End file.
